The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new. ~Rajneesh
Because I’m not the type to “get into” holidays that are [mostly] made-up for commercialism’s sake, or at least–as is the case with Mother’s Day–they have come to be about supporting all things commercial like pedicures and singing greeting cards, I’m struggling with the overwhelming magnitude of my first Mother’s Day. It’s as if the words were literally written in the sky and have been following me around this entire week: your first Mother’s Day is almost here. I’m guessing I first have to admit that this is really important for me in order to understand or even think about figuring out why.
So, I admit it: this Mother’s Day is very important to me.
Whew, that’s done.
It’s important enough to me that I wrote this blog entry in a separate Word document a few days earlier and edited it throughout the week to what is now its near-perfect state. Okay, that was an unnecessary confession! But lee lee can never resist the opportunity to be narcissistic!! Plus, when it rains emotion it pours emotion (with me).
You see, I am not looking at Mother’s Day as a time to “celebrate myself and my brilliant mothering” and go get a pedicure or manicure or spa bath or anything else that Henri can’t participate in right now. Though–you knew I was going to say this, didn’t you?–I reserve the right to do one of the above things together with Henri on a future Mother’s Day. Rather, I’m looking at this Mother’s Day as a huge milestone in the journey of my life. Within it is contained all of the feelings I had before being a mother: desperately wanting a child; desperately not wanting a child; desperately wanting to be able to afford to have a child; desperately wanting a partner to have a child with; deliberately choosing not to have a child out of desperation; choosing to have a child at an imperfect time because i have wanted one for so long; and (finally) choosing to keep my baby when i [shocked the world by] becoming “with child.” Also contained within the day are all of the feelings I have had since becoming a mother–for those, you can read all past entries of this blog–but, in a nutshell: Life, it seems, is better when I am a mother.
I would like to use Mother’s Day as a day to respect that conundrum which is being a woman and not always wanting to be a mother. I would like to use Mother’s Day as a time to join together with other mothers, an elite group I am now a part of, in order to honor the communal aspect of motherhood (also known as “I need some advice, and I need it right now!”). I would even like to use Mother’s Day as yet another day to figure out how in the world we can get back some Peace in these dire times and before our children have to grow up and long for peace the way we do (coincidentally, I was recently told by McKnight’s mother that Mother’s Day is an historic day to celebrate and commit to peace). I would’ve liked to spend the day with the mothers within my family, who, circumstantially, managed to make other plans.
Quite literally, my perfect Mother’s Day would be that of freedom*–being outdoors, somewhere sunny and flowery but not full of bees or bugs or anything; having Henri looking dapper in his brand new Mother’s Day outfit (see–commercialism! of which I am [gladly] a part!!) and no new teeth in sight; being with McKnight without being exhausted or flippant or way-too-emotional…maybe that’s asking too much–I will settle for all of us being together, with outfits that are picture-worthy but not overly frumpy, and without external demands. And if that’s too difficult, I’ll take a pair of tickets to the Red Sox Mother’s Day game.
Enough sentimentality. The real reason I’m writing this post is not because I want perfection. Right now, I just want Mother’s Day to be one of those holidays where everyone is forced to put aside their differences (and other obligations) and do what’s best “for the kids”–be together and be happy, Goddamn it! And, yes, food and presents are mandatory, bitches!!
I suspect, like most other holidays–except those that are solely about how much you can drink before driving home–I will soon forget how important this day once was to me while simultaneously coming to loathe it, much like this poor woman. Let this serve as a record, then. There was a day, if only one, where lee lee thompson was emotional, sentimental, bordering on weepy. All because she is a MOM. (Also, I was pms-ing when I wrote this. Can you tell???)